


Taking liberties

by Morbane



Category: King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)
Genre: Constructive Criticism Welcome, Hair-pulling, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 04:58:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbane/pseuds/Morbane
Summary: Arthur meets Goosefat Bill - a remix.





	Taking liberties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueteak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueteak/gifts).



Someone new.

He'd slipped in gently, closed the door casually behind him, and was looking around him at the women in the wide room with a decent pretense of avidity, but his chest still heaved from running, and his arm was held low, protective, against his side.

Arthur eyed him. Trouble. "A man of good standing," he said, drawling the words to make up for his tone, raised to carry, "or I miss my guess."

The man looked over at him, and as if Arthur had issued an invitation, pushed himself off the doorframe and strode over. Quieter than Arthur, but with a similar air, he said, "Standing, not so much, but I was hoping this was an establishment for lying down..."

"Lying low, you mean," Arthur said.

"Aye," the man said simply, eyes wry, crinkled with silent laughter, but direct as they held Arthur's gaze.

"Upstairs," Arthur said, nodding to Suze - _watch out, see who comes in after him_ \- and guided the man before him with a firm hand. He led them to an alcove, its unmade bed vacated merely half an hour ago - as a faint odor, and a discarded shawl, made clear.

The man did not protest, though Arthur saw his eyes dart around, searching in vain for easy exits. The window was a narrow slit, and as Arthur knew, it gave out on to a dicey landing.

"Who's following you?"

"Blacklegs," the man replied economically.

"What for?"

"From your reputation," the man equivocated, "nothing you would disapprove of. I'm no murderer, sir. I'll trade in secrets if you wish, for you hiding me here - but not my own."

"Hm," Arthur said. "No money, no favours, no plain truths..."

Below, the door banged. 

"And no time," the man agreed. 

The bed was wedged into the corner, under the blade's-width of sunlight; Arthur's unexpected guest hopped it neatly, eyed the window, correctly dismissed it, and cursed. He dropped to his knees, but the bed was no noble's furniture, to give generous space below a sturdy frame - it was straw and slats and straw. 

Their eyes caught again. Arthur held out to him the discarded shawl. He crossed the bed too, crowding the man briefly against the window, and sat, opening his knees.

"Let me," the man murmured, understanding instantly and reaching for the ties of Arthur's trews.

"No," Arthur said, one hand up, the other tugging at his clothes. "Get that shawl around you."

Spread over his back, frothing up at the back of his neck, the shawl almost hid how short the man's hair was. Arthur took his cock out of his smallclothes and palmed himself methodically, looking over the man's shoulder. He glanced down almost involuntarily when the man began to work Arthur's shoes off - though he could see the wisdom of the idea - and caught the man's eyes without meaning to; the frank interest in the stranger's eyes was an unexpected help to getting hard.

Footsteps, heavy, on the stairs. Arthur ran a mental tally of other guests who would have to be paid off later for the indignity. A curtain was yanked back behind him; a customer gave off a scream of outrage louder than any he'd ever heard from a whore.

The man leaned in, his breath lapping at Arthur's cock. "Don't," Arthur warned him, and felt compelled to clarify, "We aren't exactly acquainted." The man's eyes were bright with amusement, despite his peril. Arthur tugged at his hair - surprisingly soft and sleek, for all its dirt - as much to keep him in place as for the scene they were meant to be playing.

The curtain behind them was yanked aside; Arthur took half a breath, and stood, turning with exaggerated clumsiness, pretending to knock his companion's face aside with his knee.

"We charge for a show, gentlemen," he said, and watched their eyes drop to his erection - but no further.

"As you were, then," the captain said, his expression insolent. Arthur's nod was ironic in return. 

"I'll see you out, if you don't mind," he threatened, knowing that his alcove was the last of them in the line under the eaves.

"Don't trouble yourself," the captain replied. "Just an in-and-out..."

"The ladies will be disappointed," Arthur retorted, and had the satisfaction of seeing a smirk on one of the Blacklegs' faces. His face clouding, the captain retreated.

He stood fast - though parts of him were indeed beginning to droop a little in the cross-breezes - as they left.

He pulled the curtain back, and turned to his fugitive. "You'd best wait here a nonce," he said. "They'll leave someone to watch the street, just in case."

"And then?" the man asked slyly. "I hate to leave with unfinished business."

Arthur was already tucking himself away. "I think you forget," he said, "who's doing whom the favour." He liked the look of the man, and approved his quick wits - but mistrusted his motives entirely. It was nothing personal, of course.

It should probably stay that way.

"As you wish," the man said. "Then you haven't seen the last of me."

Arthur had already turned his back, and therefore, allowed himself a grin. If the man was any good, he wouldn't see him go.


End file.
